Doing the Devil's Dance
by MissMarquin
Summary: Sylvain wasnt sure what he was getting into, when he agreed to try on Felix's old Dancer Gear. Sylvix, Oneshot, Sequel to All Over You Like a Cheap Jacket.


_A/N: This is TECHNICALLY the sequel to All Over You Like a Cheap Jacket, but it's not required to read this. :3_

* * *

_**Doing the Devil's Dance**_

What has he gotten himself into?

Okay so yeah, he promised Felix. Well, maybe not _promised_. It was more like immediately agreed, because it is a _fact_ that whatever Felix likes, Sylvain likes by default.

Even if it means squeezing into an old dance costume several sizes too small.

Sylvain's surprised that Felix even has it still. He's not the type to keep things hanging around and the get up was practically a relic. Considering that Felix had been forced into competing at the ball, the memory of this particular certification wasn't a fond one for the man.

For Sylvain though, it was entirely the opposite. It wasn't that there had ever been a time where he wasn't interested in Felix, but the sight of the swordsman in the scantily clad ensemble had quickly put things into perspective. Things like powerful calf muscles and a surprisingly round ass that he'd been hiding.

Things that Felix took great pride in, now that they were older and wiser. Especially when he held Sylvain by the shirt collar, if it meant one little glimpse of that well toned and beloved behind.

Sylvain frowns at himself in the mirror. He'd managed to get the tunic over his head at least. It was tight across the shoulders, but serviceable. Until his butt of course. It was too short to cover the entirety of his backside, leaving the bottom half to hang out.

Felix will like _that_ at least. The sash was free in its size, so he's managed to drape it across his shoulder, tying it at the hip. The fabric is soft, and even though it pulls at his skin, it's not uncomfortable.

If he doesn't move much.

"You're missing the sandals," Felix says from behind quite suddenly. He'd been quiet enough to slink into the room undetected.

"Goddess," Sylvain cries, clutching dramatically at his chest. "Warn a man!"

"Perhaps if you bothered to train, you would've heard me."

"Not likely," Sylvain pouts, before turning to the other man. He doesn't need to add that he'd been distracted by the mere idea of Felix might do, once he'd gotten a glimpse. "You're so light on your feet— _What are those?"_

Felix is leaning against the wall, a pair of laced up sandals dangling from his fingertips. They conspicuously look like Sylvain's size.

"Did you think I'd forget?" Felix asks. "I've been _waiting_ for this day and I've come prepared. On they go."

"You're kidding me. I won't—"

Felix sighs at that. "Then my only date is with the training grounds." He pulls away from the wall and drops the sandals to the ground before turning to leave.

"No—"

Felix pauses, glancing back with a near predatory smirk and Sylvain swallows thickly. Honestly, he's surprised by the hoarseness of his own tone. "Is this something— I mean, uh— How badly do you want to see it?"

Felix raises an eyebrow, before turning and picking up the shoes once more. "I've made my wishes pretty clear, I think," he says evenly, stepping closer.

Felix is shorter, but when he's like this he seems so much bigger and—_oh his eyes_. His amber gaze is bright and his lips quirk upwards into a sly grin. It's a look that Sylvain loves, but regards apprehensively. "I wonder though… just how much can I pull you apart tonight? And how long will it take to put you back together?"

_Oh, it's going to be one of those nights_.

Sylvain feels the words sink straight to his groin, his cock already stirring with interest. He can tell that Felix can see exactly how he's been affected, how _immediate_ his response is to that particular tone and—

Sylvain snatches the shoes from Felix's hand. "I'm only doing this for you," he snaps, leaning over and strapping one one.

He sees Felix's reflection raise an eyebrow in the mirror, his gaze trained directly on the reflection of Sylvain's ass. "_Only_ for me?" He tsks. "Where's the fun in that?"

Sylvain rolls his eyes, but finishes strapping the other sandal. He stands straight, taking in his reflection once more—only to falter slightly at his image.

He looks good, even he can admit it. Well, he always looks good, but this time is different. The outfit is tight across his broad chest, the fabric bunching attractively over his muscles. His ass peeks out from the gauzy fabric and his toned thighs seem to stand out more than usual.

Yeah, he can absolutely see the appeal in this, because this is what had set him off the first time Felix had worn it, years prior.

Felix hums appreciatively, stepping forward and looking around Sylvain's shoulder and into the mirror. Felix hands rise, skimming across the thin material at his waist, before one hand slinks over his hip bone and—

"_Felix_," Sylvain hisses, and he can feel the other man press a kiss onto his shoulder blade.

"Already so hard," Felix says, running a finger down Sylvain's length, tracing the vein there. "All from looking at yourself? _Insatiable_." His tone is deep as he murmurs, his other hand shaking up to grip at Sylvain's hair. He doesn't pull hard enough to hurt, only to pull his head down. The kiss that Felix presses against his neck is teasing, just like the finger ghosting the edge of his cock.

"That's not—It's not—-" But Sylvain's voice dies as Felix wraps his hand around the length fully, giving him a loose pump. It's the thought of _Felix_ and his reaction, that's the cause, but he can't form the words to articulate it.

"It's a good look," Felix says against his neck, his teeth grazing the skin there, nibbling at the juncture. "This get up. I was never a fan of it, but seeing it on you has changed my mind."

Sylvain laughs at that. "This was the get up that did me in," he finally gasps. Felix pauses his hand before letting go entirely, regarding him curiously in the mirror.

"Oh?"

"It was that—I'd always noticed you but this was—Goddess, have you seen your ass in this?"

Felix arches a brow and then smirks. His hands slide back across Sylvain's hips, down his thighs and then back up to squeeze the fleshy globes of his behind. He kneads them before pulling at Sylvain's hips again, pressing his hardness against his backside. Sylvain can't help the strangled moan that bubbles through him as he grinds back.

Felix's grip tightens and then he pushes him away. "On the bed," he urges. Sylvain falls onto it without a fight, laying on his back, propped onto his elbows and tense with anticipation.

Felix looks at him, like he's about to eat him alive, and Sylvain's cock twitches at the mere thought of it.

"You know, when you said yes to wearing this, I wasn't sure you meant it," Felix says, pressing a knee into the mattress. And he's right—it wouldn't be the first time Sylvain promised to indulge in him and fell short. "But here we are and look at you." Felix regards him fondly, running a hand up one of Sylvain's muscular thighs.

He can't help the whine that escapes him, or the way the he arches into Felix's grasp. Felix fingers the blue silk portion of the tunic, tugging at the tassels.

Sylvan wishes Felix was tugging at his cock instead of leaving it alone and leaking.

"This isn't a good color on you," Felix says, his tone curling into amusement and Sylvain huffs. "It clashes with your hair but, " He shifts his attention to the white tunic pulled tight across his chest. "But this—" Felix thumbs over a nipple through the silk, causing Sylvain's head to drop back against the pillow.

He'd thought he couldn't get harder or more desperate, but Goddess he was wrong. His cock burns with need, and his tries to angle his hips closer to Felix's hand. "Felix," he begs, his voice practically a whimper, and he hates it, he hates how far he's fallen so quickly.

"You look so good, spread out like this under me," Felix says, leaning closer, pressing his lips against the portion of Sylvain's collar bone that juts up from the neckline. "Like a feast almost, just ready to be devoured. I get it now, the satisfaction of seeing you in my clothes."

"These are _barely_ clothes, Felix," Sylvain mutters. "How you wore them on the battlefield is beyond me—_Ah—"_

Felix's fingers are rough around his length, but at least he's finally touching it. He squeezes tightly before dragging his grip up, pumping it once. Sylvain whines, chasing the movement once Felix removes his hand.

"Be nice," Felix chides.

"I'm wearing the damn thing," Sylvain grouses.

Felix pauses over him and Sylvain expects to see a sneer of annoyance. Instead he sees a rare show of affection, his smile wide and genuine, eyes hooded with love—

Sylvain's breath hitches, his throat bobbing as Felix looks down at him, running his hands down the length of leg before digging into the meaty part of his thigh.

"Yeah you are," Felix says, his voice a low pur. "All for me, only for me. It suits you."

"That's a lie."

"When have I ever lied to you?"

Tons of times, but Sylvain wisely opts to not point that out. "What are you waiting for?" He asks instead, trying to press their hips together. Felix's grip on him is firm though, and he isn't able to move much under him.

"I'll do as I please," Felix tells him, pulling his hips away. Sylvain is instantly disappointed in the loss. "Even if that means you have to be patient." There's a pause as his hand ghosts over Sylvain's abs. "_Especially_ if it means that. Can you do that? Be patient for me?"

"Yes," Sylvain immediately answers. He knows he's done for the moment that he sees Felix grin wide and predatory.

Felix hums, as he lifts a hand and flicks his fingers over one of Sylvain's nipples. He can't feel the full effect though the garment. But the pressure is nice and Sylvain presses into the touch, head falling back and—

"So responsive," Felix says. "I don't do this enough."

No, Sylvain thinks, he really doesn't, but Sylvain isn't the type to complain or ask for more. He's the giver in the relationship, the faithful worshippers in bed. He's the one to indulge Felix and his whims, so the shift in dynamics is welcomed.

"What do you want?" Felix asks him suddenly.

Sylvain blinks back at him, eyes half lidded and cheeks rosy. "Just, uh—" He's not very articulated when he's like this, he realizes, but Felix is patient. He looks down at him, one thumb rubbing lazy circles across his pec, over the gauzy fabric and—

"Sylvain," Felix says, pulling him back into focus.

"Kiss me?" Sylvain doesnt mean for it to come out as a question or for it to sound so sentimental, and Felix scoffs gently. He then sighs fondly, leaning over, pressing their lips together and—

Yeah, this is what Sylvain is craving. The closeness, the warmth of Felix laying over him. His wandering hands and the way they slide the material of the costume aside. Really, fuck this costume.

Or maybe not. It took Felix wearing this ridiculous ensemble on the field for Sylvain to finally _do_ something about his feelings. And years later here they were, and Sylvain wouldn't trade what they had for _anything_—

Felix moans against his mouth, tongue snaking out and pressing against the seam of his lips. Sylvain responds in kind, licking into Felix's warmth, twirling them together.

Felix isn't usually so patient. He's the kind to get to the point of things right away and then bask in the afterglow. Sylvain often has to slow him down, coaxing him into a gentler rhythm.

It's different this time. Sylvain can feel the heat pooling in his groin, and Felix knows, he _knows_, because he presses their hips together. The friction of Felix's clothed hardness causes Sylvain to hiss into his mouth.

Finally, Felix pulls away, his expression hazy and aroused. And _fuck_, if it isn't the best thing Sylvain's seen in years, then he's lying on the Goddess' name.

Felix pulls back, before climbing off of the bed proper. "Up," he orders, motioning Sylvain to follow, pulling him to his knees. He watches as Felix squeezes his own hardness through his pants.

Sylvain's mouth is already watering. Felix huffs before slipping a finger into his waistband, pulling at it. "I promised that I'd take you apart, but not quite yet. You'll have to work for it."

Sylvain is almost embarrassed by how fast he finds himself clawing at Felix's pants, but once he unlaces them and yanks the band down, all hope is lost. Felix is hard and heavy in his grip, the skin like soft velvet over iron.

His tongue snakes out, licking up the side of Felix's length, tracing the vein there. Felix tenses under his grip, but holds his composure. Felix said he'd have to work for it, but Sylvain makes it his goal to utterly _shatter_ him.

He licks his hand, slicking it slightly before pumping the shaft in a tight grip. Felix immediately responds, bucking into the grip. Sylvain smiles into the skin right above the cock, pressing a kiss there.

He noses the trail of downy hair there, before kissing the juncture where Felix's shaft starts. It stirs slightly in his grip, before Sylvain licks a stripe back to the tip, wrapping his mouth around it suddenly.

Felix sucks in a breath, urging him on. Sylvain slides his lips down further, sucking him in, and running his tongue along the underside.

"_Fuck_," Felix moans, a hand finding purchase in Sylvain's hair, tugging harshly. The pain is sharp, but welcome as he slides back, swirling his tongue around the tip of the length. He's warm, and the taste heady on his tongue, but Sylvain relishes it. There's nothing more than _Felix_ in the grand scheme of things, and he wants to indulge.

The fingers in his hair smooth his curl gently, carding through the thick strands affectionately. Sylvain looks up, his mouth stretched around Felix's cock, sliding back up the length before he sucks again.

Felix's head is thrown back, his eyes closed as he heaves a heavy breath. Sylvain raises a hand, fingers skittering over Felix's abs which are pulled taut with strain. "Sylvain," Felix manages, his voice husky with lust as the grip on his hair tightens again. He's beyond enjoying it, he's loving it, he's _living_ for it. Felix is very nearly gone.

Sylvain wants to _impress_. He moves his hand to grasp at Felix's hip bone, gripping tightly before pressing further along his length and-

"Syl—Sylvain—_Fuck—"_

Sylvain smiles around him, humming slightly and he can tell that Felix is trying everything he can to not buck straight into his throat. Sylvain digs his fingers into the meat of Felix's thighs, squeezing tightly, before looking up and meeting Felix's gaze. Silently pleading for more, _begging_ him, really.

Felix is looking back with a half lidded gaze and curses indelicately. "_Sylvain,"_ he hisses at the sight of him, pressing in as deep as he can manage. The hand not in his hair falls down to Sylvain's throat, pressing there. He doesn't squeeze, but he lays it flat against the apple of his throat, just _feeling_. "Goddess," Felix moans, his eyes bright with awe as he looks down. "Look at you, taking all of me. There's little better than this."

Sylvain hums in response, nose pressed into his skin momentarily before pulling back and hacking. It's unsightly, but Felix has been set off. He's still holding him there when his grip tightens slightly, pulling him back. "Again," he requests, and while it isn't a demand, there's expectation there and Sylvain wants to please.

And so he does, pulling him back to him, Felix's cock hard and heavy in his throat. The sigh of pleasure that Felix releases is worth the discomfort and the look on his face even more so.

Sylvain is so hard it hurts. At least he's free from his pants, he thinks. He can feel the precome slip from his tip though, and it's a cold and unpleasant sensation, one that's becoming harder and harder to ignore. He moves a hand to cradle Felix's balls, before pulling off the man's cock once more. He presses the length upwards, licking a stripe up his sack.

"What do you want, Sylvain?" Felix asks.

Sylvain looks up at him again, nuzzling the skin at the base of his cock lovingly, before biting at it. "I want you inside me," he says simply, sucking a mark there.

Felix grunts at his request, but let's go of him. He easily locates a bottle of oil in the bedside table as Sylvain rearranges himself on the bed. He lays back against the pillows, hand snaking down to grasp himself, but Felix reaches out to grab his wrist.

"No," Felix says. "Not yet."

"Felix—" Sylvain whimpers, but Felix leans closer, pressing a kiss against his forehead. It's oddly tender when compared to the heat between them, but Sylvain drops his hand as he's told.

"You're going to touch yourself, don't worry," Felix promises, and then he tosses the bottle beside him. "You're going to open yourself up."

Sylvain can feel his face heat at the request. It's not the first time he's done this, or had himself filled, but it's always been at the expense of Felix's hand, not his own. He swallows thickly, watching as Felix regards him with a piercing gaze.

"But first," the other man says, reaching out and pulling away the blue sash tucked tightly around him. He tosses it to the floor with little care, followed by various tassels and other accessories. Eventually Sylvain is left in only the short, white tunic that showed off his powerful legs and wide collarbone, and the blasted sandals, laced up his calves.

Felix's gaze pauses on his hardened length, peeking out from underneath the gauzy fabric. Smirking widely, he leans forward, licking along it to the tip before lapping up the precome that's gathered there. Sylvain bucks his hips, his head falling back, adoring the contact-

And then Felix is gone, pulling away as he looks at Sylvain like he wants to eat him alive, considering him. "On your knees," he finally says, and Sylvain complies. Felix waits expectantly. _Right_.

He eyes the oil warily, before pouring a liberal amount on his fingers. It's been awhile since they've last indulged Felix topping, and the hesitation must show on his face. Felix leans closer, grasping at his behind and squeezing one of his ass cheeks gently. "There isn't a rush," he tells him.

But there is, there _absolutely is_, Sylvain thinks. Between his heavy cock hanging below him and the want and need to have Felix's pressed within—he _longs_ for it. The pad of his finger circles his entrance, massaging the ring of muscle gently before pressing the tip in to the first knuckle.

The stretch is delicious and Sylvain keens at the pressure, his forehead falling into the pillow. Felix smooths his hand along the back of his thigh, upwards and upwards to the base of his spine before leaning over to press a kiss there. Sylvain pumps his finger gently, pressing in deeper, twisting it slightly. He sighs, trying to concentrate on what he's doing, but it's difficult with Felix distracting him.

He slicks up a second finger before pressing in deeply, back arching as he moans. Felix pulls away, humming as he watches, eyes sharp as he reaches down to spread one of his cheeks in an effort to see Sylvain's hand better.

"Felix," Sylvain says, his voice thin and wispy as he pumps two fingers in and out of his hole, scissoring them carefully to spread the muscle. "I can't—_I."_ He can't do it anymore, he can't focus, he can't form words. All he wants is Felix to touch him, to push into him, to _fill_ him.

But Felix only watches with infuriating patience.

"Please," Sylvain begs, sweaty bangs pasted to his forehead. His cheek is pressed into the pillow, glancing back at Felix through a flushed haze. He can't reach the proper angle this way, but he's so close and if Felix were to—

He feels cool fingers pull at his hand gently, tugging his hand away. Then there's the click of the oil bottle, followed shortly by a long and slender finger slipping in. "You did well," Felix commends, pressing deep into him. "You did _so_ well, opening yourself up for me." He quickly adds a second finger, spreading them wide to repeat the motion Sylvain had used earlier.

"Yes," Sylvain moans, because Goddess, he tried. But doing it himself isn't the same. Felix's fingers are shorter than his and slimmer, but he knows exactly where to press, exactly what leads him to fall into a blubbering mess in the middle of the sheets.

Felix's free hand roams Sylvain's backside, squeezing at the muscles there, as his other slips in and out, his fingers dragging at his entrance, _pulling_ at him—

"Felix," Sylvain cries out, pressing his hips back, trying to get more friction. He wants to grab his neglected length, pulling at it until completion but Felix told him not to, so he won't, he won't, _he won't_.

"Can you take more?" Felix hums back. "Just one, just _a little_?" He pulls his fingers out, thumbing at the loosensed hole, and Sylvain lets out an embarrassing groan. Felix takes it as an affirmative and Sylvain hears the click of the oil bottle as he slicks up his fingers again. One, two and then there's the third, slowly pushing in, stretching him wide.

Sylvain bucks back into his hand, melting into the touch. "Felix, _Fe—_"

"So good for me," Felix cooes back, and anyone else would think it's out of character, but Sylvain knows better. Felix can pull him apart, bit by bit and put him right back together. Felix pumps his fingers slowly, twisting them slightly, hooking them a certain way until Sylvain is seeing stars. He hisses out a low moan, grinding back against his hand, desperate to keep Felix's touch there.

"A little bit longer," Felix tells him. "Not yet, not until I'm in you."

The idea of Felix filling him is enough on its own to finish him, but Sylvain holds off, halting his hips. "Felix I—_Fe_."

"Not much more," Felix says, his words soft, but his fingers press into Sylvain sharply, spreading him wide and deep and—

"I swear to the Goddess I'm about spill right here," Sylvain tells him. Felix's hand stops, Sylvain's hips pressing back to chase it, to keep that addicting motion going. He feels another hand on his ass, pulling it to the side as Felix surveys him with a gentle hum in his throat.

Felix leans forward to press a kiss against the globe, his lips cold against his feverish skin. "What do you want?" he asks, the words ghosting along Sylvain.

"I want—I _need_, Goddess, just get in me already, would you?" Sylvain whines under his touch.

Felix pulls his fingers from him and Sylvain immediately feels the loss. "So impatient," the man tuts, even though Sylvain's been waiting _forever_. He turns to watch Felix uncork the bottle again, pouring a generous amount onto his cock.

"Wait—" Sylvain starts, and Felix looks at him, hand tight around his own cock as he pumps it once. It's a sight that makes Sylvain's mouth go dry, and suddenly there's only one thing he really wants and that's— "I want to see you," he sighs. "I want to ride you."

Felix smirks at that, curling his fingers around the head of his length and squeezing again. Sylvain licks his lips as he watches. "I _should_ make you work for it," he agrees, before settling against the headboard. "Come here, Sylvain," he croons, motioning him over.

Sylvain scrambles over him, long legs slotting around Felix's hips. Felix grabs him by the waist, fingers digging tightly into his skin as he tugs him closer, and Sylvain realizes that his dominating facade is only that- he's barely holding on himself, and he can't wait to press inside, to feel the addicting heat—

And Sylvain can't wait either. He lowers his hips, reaching back to grasp at Felix's cock. Pumping it once, he presses it against his hole briefly before taking a deep breath and bearing down. Even after taking three fingers, Felix feels so big in him, the stretch pulling at his rim as he slides along the length.

Sylvain loves it, craves it, and he wants more. Felix's hands fall to his hips, gripping tightly, stopping him abruptly. "Fuck," he hisses, the first crack in his harsh exterior. "Goddess, you're tight," he finishes, bucking deeper into Sylvain's heat. Felix lets out a low moan, his head falling back, eyes closed and his cheeks flushed red with strain.

Sylvain lowers himself more and more until he finally bottoms out, their skin flush together as he grinds against the other man. Felix shudders beneath him, bucking upwards on instinct, and Sylvain's breath hitches at the sensation.

"_Sylvain_," Felix manages finally, his voice warm like honey. Sylvain melts at the tone. Felix is already gone and they've barely started- no one sees this aside from himself, _no one_.

Sylvain's thighs shake with strain as he lifts his hips, pulling off until just the tip of Felix's cock is left within him, before lowering himself again. The pace is slow, allowing him to get used to the thickness and drag of Felix within him.

"You feel-" Sylvain starts, but then pauses once Felix is sheathed fully again, circling his hips around as he tries to find the right angle. Judging the way that Felix is fisting the soft material of the tunic, it's something that he should keep doing, and Sylvain is more than happy to oblige. He repeats the motion, thighs burning, the heat within him climbing hotter and hotter. "It's been too long since we've done it like this," he admits, his words chased by a moan.

His cock bobs between them, neglected and red with need, but Felix ignores it. Sylvain knows that he'll tell him _longer, just a little bit longer_. "Goddess, you feel amazing," Sylvain says, finally finishing his earlier thought. "You feel—"

"You're perfect," Felix interrupts, and Sylvain pauses in his movement. Felix takes the opportunity to shift their position slightly, sitting up straight and propping his back against the headboard properly. He pulls Sylvain closer, rucking the tunic up, trying to pull it off. Sylvain helps, throwing the garment behind him with little thought. "_So_ perfect," Felix says, pulling their chests flush together, one hand winding up to grasp Sylvain's hair tightly.

"So warm," he murmurs into the skin of Sylvain's neck, before his tongue snakes out to lick a stripe along it.

"_Fe—"_

"So _tight_," he groans, bucking up into Sylvain sharply.

"Fuck, _fuck—" _The new angle is different, but perfect, and it's a direct hit to the spot that turns Sylvain into a puddling mess.

Felix thrusts into him again and again, the pace picking up and turning more aggressive. Sylvain does his best to match his movements, but it's hard to focus with Felix taking control. He bites at his neck, before soothing the spot with his tongue. The hand in Sylvain's hair yanks at it, fingers gripping tightly.

Sylvain winds his arms around Felix's shoulders, trying to pull him as close as possible, even if their height difference makes it slightly awkward. Felix lifts his other hand to Sylvain's jaw, thumbing along the seam of his mouth. Sylvain opens his lips immediately, sucking the digit into his mouth, tongue swirling around it.

"Beautiful," Felix tells him, and Sylvain whines underneath his touch. He's always careful with his praise, but he can't help the warmth that spreads through him when Felix gushes. "_Gorgeous."_ The word is followed by a quick thrust and Sylvain cries out.

Felix pulls his hand away from his mouth, sliding down his body and then across one of his nipples. He doesn't press hard, but instead circles the nub, before pinching at it.

Sylvain meets his thrusts eagerly, wantonly before Felix pauses his hips again. They sit there a moment, catching their breaths, basking in each other. "So perfect," Felix repeats, the hand in Sylvain's hair letting go to smooth it back distractedly. "Always perfect, and all mine."

"Only yours," Sylvain corrects, leaning closer to press their foreheads together.

Felix pulls back slightly, regarding him with a clear show of affection, and Sylvain's heart just _crumbles_ at the sight of it. Felix smiles at him, wide and real, before pulling his chin closer and pressing their lips together. Sylvain is the one to heat up the kiss, lips opening, tongue slipping inside eagerly.

"What do you want?" Felix asks, licking along the seam of Sylvain's mouth.

"More," Sylvain begs in response. Felix hums at that, pressing another hungry kiss against him and Sylvain responds in kind. But then Felix lets go of him, his hands sliding down Sylvain's sides, ghosting along his hip bones before reaching around and grabbing his ass. He pulls at one side, spreading him as the other hand touches where they're connected.

"Look at us," Felix whispers against him, dropping his mouth to his neck, pecking the skin there affectionately. "Look at _you_," he continues, massaging Sylvain's abused entrance lightly with his fingers. "Taking me so well, like you were _made_ for this." Sylvain moans at the sensation, his breath hitching as Felix thrusts upwards into him again. This time it's slower, but deeper, placed with careful intent and—

"_Goddess above,"_ Sylvain hisses when Felix strikes the right spot, the _perfect_ spot and it takes everything he has not to tumble right then and there. His cock is beyond aching, burning and angry and red as rubs against the hardened abs of Felix.

And then Felix takes hold of it, his calloused hand wrapping around it and spreading the precome that's collected there. "I love you," Felix says to him. "Sylvain—_you_—I love you so much." He pumps it once, fingers twisting around the head of his length on the upturn and Sylvain practically howls.

"I can't hold on for much longer," he says to Felix, his hips meeting his thrusts eagerly, taking in as much as he can. Felix's grip on one half of his ass tightens, fingers pressing into the meaty muscle there.

"I want to see it." Felix grips his cock tighter, pulling at it harder, trying to coax Sylvain into falling over the edge. "Show me," he croons, and Sylvain slams down onto his cock over and over and _over—_

"Come for me," Felix tells him.

Sylvain does. He tumbles over the edge with a cry, bucking wildly into Felix's hand as he falls head-first into bliss, arching into his grasp. Felix coaxes him through it, as Sylvain tightens around him in a near vice grip. Felix bucks into him frantically, his nerves alight as he chases after Sylvain with an orgasm of his own, filling him to the brim.

Normally, Sylvain would pull off at this point, but instead he leans against Felix, forehead pressed into the juncture of his neck. Felix sighs, threading a hand through Sylvain's hair, as he says tartly, "We should have taken those damn sandals off before getting in the bed."

Sylvain can't help it as he laughs into his neck. Felix is teasing him of course, his words only sounding holds him close, one hand sliding through his auburn locks gently, while the other rubs gentle circles across the base of his spine.

"I don't want to move," Sylvain groans.

Felix taps at his thigh softly before helping him up. Sylvain feels empty almost, when Felix slips out, cringing slightly at the unpleasant and wet sensation. But when he moves to leave the bed, Felix stops him.

"Wait, I'll do it," he says gently, leaning over to press a kiss to Sylvain's forehead before standing properly. There's a water basin in the corner, and Sylvain watches as he fetches a cloth and wets it. Felix cuts an unfairly beautiful figure against the bland walls of their room, even as spent as he is.

Sylvain hitches his legs up, when Felix comes back to him and says, "You don't have to—"

_"Idiot,"_ he chides, thumbing his cheeks apart as he surveys his work. Sylvain tints pink at the unwavering gaze, burying his face into the pillow below him. "I made the mess," Felix continues, thumbing over his loosened hole softly. Reverently. Sylvain sighs at the touch, relaxing as Felix cleans him wordlessly.

Eventually the towel is thrown aside and they strip down proper. Sylvain curls around Felix, pulling him to his chest, tangling their legs together. He kisses the back of his neck. "Thank you," he murmurs. "It's nice switching things up."

_"Nice,"_ Felix breathes out, but Sylvain knows he's not actually annoyed. Felix is tired and bone weary, and this is the way that Sylvain likes him the best, he thinks. Pliant and cuddly in the afterglow.

"I never said it earlier," Sylvain starts—

"_Sylvain_, I'm tired. Go to sleep—"

"I love you," Sylvsin presses on, rubbing a circle into the taut abs of the man snuggled close.

Felix is quiet for a moment and then says, "Until the day we die, right?"

Sylvain hums at that. "Longer."

He doesn't need to be looking at Felix to know that he's smiling.


End file.
